


Glowing in the Dark

by they_regrey



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, season 2 finale spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_regrey/pseuds/they_regrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew arrives on base almost immediately after the ceasefire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glowing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I hope we get more of these two next season. Title inspired by Taylor Swift, spoilers for the AOS finale.

Andrew arrives on base almost immediately after the ceasefire.

“He wasn't supposed to arrive until next week,” Phil says with a frown as he pushes himself up carefully from his seat, listing slightly to the side as he overcompensates for his bad arm.

“You're not supposed to be here until next week,” he repeats in the hangar bay, striding over to Andrew who sets his overnight bag down to accept a handshake. Melinda stops in her customary position behind and a little to the side of Phil, and their eyes meet over the Director's shoulder.

“Sorry for the imposition. Turns out I had more business here than I thought I did,” Andrew explains. His gaze lingers on the marks on her face, then travels downward to take in the rest of her, returns to her eyes. Melinda knows he's checking for injuries, but her stomach flips anyway.

Phil's replying, something about how the bunks aren't exactly oversubscribed. Melinda has almost never found him easier to ignore. _He came_.

It's only when she hears her name that she comes back to reality, realizes how stupid she and Andrew must look, standing stock still in the middle of the hangar staring at each other. Andrew hasn't even let go of Phil's hand yet.

“-could show you the way?” Phil finishes, awkwardly extracting himself from Andrew's slackened grip and glancing between them. His eyebrows are already halfway to his hairline. Melinda decides on a quick retreat.

“Sure,” she says shortly, then turns on her heel and strides away.

* * *

 

She wends through the base silently, Andrew's measured steps just behind her, enters the residential quarters and follows the door numbers down until she finds the right one and enters the override.

“Here.”

She hovers awkwardly at the doorway as Andrew enters and sets his stuff down, suddenly painfully aware that she has no idea what comes next. No idea what they're aiming for here, if he even- Andrew looks up at her expectantly. Melinda winces and takes a step backwards.

“I know you have a lot to- so I can-”

“Whoah, hey.”

Two long strides and Andrew catches up with her, hesitates for a second before laying a hand tentatively on her upper arm. _Anticipating that she might jerk away. Ouch._ He waits patiently until she takes a deep breath and meets his eyes.

“I'm early remember? For the next few days I'm all yours.”

His voice is soft, promising, and just like that all her worries are soothed. There are no words to convey the relief of that, the way it lodges in the pit of her stomach and steadies her. But she promised, so she has to try.

“I'm really glad you're here.”

Andrew looks down at her for a few seconds, then very carefully slides his hand round to rest on her back, steps closer. Everything slow, deliberate, so she can see it coming, move away if she doesn't- Melinda wraps her arms around his neck and holds on tight. Andrew's grip on her strengthens until she's pressed against him just as hard. The world fades and lessens until there's just this, his skin on hers, tension she didn't even know was there leaking out of her muscles. Andrew sighs into her hair.

She isn't sure really how long they stand in the hallway clinging to each other, but she feels almost boneless when they extricate themselves, better than she has in months. Andrew smiles at her and she can't help but smile back.

“You wanna come in?”

Melinda nods and follows him back into the bunk, slides the door shut behind them. Andrew is turning around, taking in the space properly for the first time.

“This is way nicer than I expected.”

Melinda snorts, pulling out the desk chair.

“Well we sure don't stick around for the pay,” she jokes.

“Or the hours,” Andrew agrees with a grin, bending to unzip his duffel.

“I wish you hadn't mentioned that.” Melinda says, yawning. At the best of times the base is never truly dormant, and the best of times these are not. They're rebuilding after a brief but terrible war, half the senior leadership is dead or seriously injured, and the entire chain of command has gone to shit. She's lucky to be in her bunk for four hours at a stretch, and sitting down for the first time all day certainly isn't helping her to ignore the resulting tiredness.

Andrew straightens up and frowns at her.

“You can lie down.”

She shakes her head. She has to be alert.

“I might be needed.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow at her.

“Coulson looks like he has things pretty much under control.”

“Coulson has one working arm. Bobbi's unconscious, Weaver and Skye are in mourning-”

“And you look like you're about to collapse.” Andrew interrupts her gently. He abandons his unpacking to kneel in front of her, wrapping his hands around her knees. “Melinda, you did good and you got home. No one gets to expect anything more from you, not right now.”

They're silent for a moment, Melinda caught up in the fierce, compassionate wonder of him. It had been one of the first things she fell in love with, the knack he has for making people feel seen.

“I think I needed to hear that,” she says eventually.

“Yeah.” He helps her up, waits for her to toe off her boots and get comfortable before he goes to pull the sheets up over her.

“Andrew wait,” Melinda can't imagine being awake for much longer, but there's something she needs to do first. For Andrew, for everything that comes next, this is important. She pushes herself back into a seated position (more of a struggle than she'd like) and grasps his elbow.

“Melinda-”

She hums, low and reassuring. Andrew falls obediently silent. She can't look at him and do this so she focuses on his skin, strokes down the inside of his forearm, drawing goosebumps. Her fingers brush his hand and he startles. Something inside her aches again, but Melinda's done torturing herself with all the wounds she couldn't help but inflict. Suffering in Andrew's name has never helped, her or him. This might. 

Her hand fits in his just like she remembers, and Andrew lets out a shuddering breath, shoulders slumping. She massages his knuckles with her thumb and tugs. He withdraws reluctantly to remove his shoes and jacket then crawls into the bed next to her, snagging the covers and bearing them both down to the mattress. They position themselves with Andrew's head resting over her heart, Melinda's fingers running idly through the soft fuzz of his hair. She wants to stay in this moment forever, but her eyelids are so heavy.

“Stop fighting it,” Andrew murmurs.

“I'm not. I just want to remember this.”

Andrew lifts himself up on one elbow and grins at her. _Oh boy._

“I promise I'll remind you.”

“You don't pay the right kind of attention,” she insists sleepily.

He rolls his eyes.

“You're not making any sense.”

“'m bored of making sense,” Melinda grumbles, closing her eyes, “When I wake up I'm gonna do something weird.”

Andrew chuckles. Lips brush feather light against her forehead before he settles back down against her.

“You need an accomplice?”

“Sure. How do you feel about breaking and entering?”

 


End file.
